In A Swell Of The Headlights
by Mi ChIbO
Summary: His chest heaved with exhaustion as the rain came down harder and it became more difficult to breathe. He needed her, but she needed him no more. [I guess I don't need to tell you that I suck at summaries. Use your own pairing for this story] angst, death


**Okaay… so it's my first time writing a HP fanfic (well, it's not the first time I've written one… it's just the first one I've put up here on FF. but yeah…) and I would appreciate it if you guys read and reviewed. This is a use-your-own-pairing story. Yup. So yeah… read if you want.**

He stood out on the street, the harsh rain biting into his skin.

He was alone; without hope.

They say it's heartbreaking to see a grown man cry, but to see this boy at a mere sixteen years of age, just on the brink of adulthood, was really tragic. Tears mixed with the rain that plastered his hair to his head softened the edges of his tired face. His breaths came out in sharp gasps and his eyes stung with the cutting wind that was blowing into his face.

His heartbeat was barely audible, penetrating the thoughts that were almost nonexistent in his head.

One chance.

One chance was all he needed…

…to change the way she thought about him.

Was this that chance?

Did standing out in the storm of all storms, watching the flickering streetlight in some way reveal his emotions to her?

How could it?

She was probably sitting happily at home, writing a letter the one that she loved.

The one of many that wasn't him.

He didn't know what compelled him to do it.

She was just so beautiful that night, some years back…

With her hair done up in an extravagant fashion, her dress clinging to the every curve of her body; her face radiant in the glow of the light.

He had watched her cross the floor of the Great Hall gracefully and offer her finest curtsy to the young gentleman who was her date that night.

Again, the one of many that wasn't him.

All the night he had watched her, neglectful in his duties to his own date; he supposed, now, that he could have been more chivalrous to the girl he'd been with at the time. She had offered more than once to dance with him, but he'd declined, content with watching the girl he loved, done up in a beautified stance. His date had sighed and walked away, only to be swept off of her feet by a charming man with whom she spent the rest of the night, never returning.

He grunted as a flash of lightning lit up the sky, piercing his memories with malice.

Flashes of what used to be flew through his mind nonstop.

Him with her, her with him, the both of them together.

It was heartbreaking.

His chest heaved with exhaustion as the rain came down harder and it became more difficult to breathe.

He needed her, but she needed him no more.

He could almost hear her laughing and he wondered how long it had been since he had actually heard that laugh of hers.

He balled up his fists and stared determinedly at the sliver of the moon clouded heavily by stormy clouds.

The roar of an engine cut into the night, the sting of the rain hitting the windshield of an oncoming truck sounding repeatedly.

The driver was in a hurry. A shipment of goods had come in that needed to be delivered before the next day in a town farther than could be reached in the little time he had.

He pressed his foot on the gas pedal and the truck roared, jerking forward.

The boy hadn't the time – nor the will – to remove himself from the truck's path.

It was too late.

In a swell of the headlights, he was gone.

Forever.

-

"A sixteen-year-old boy, said to be out on the streets late at night, was run over by a large produce truck last night. The driver says that the boy was hardly noticeable in the heavy rain and charges weren't pressed, with the knowledge of last night's storm in mind. Police have identified the body, but are not exposing the name of the boy until they-"

She turned over the newspaper, unable to read any more.

Was she the reason he'd died that night?

If so, hadn't he received the letter she'd been sure arrived yesterday that told him that she still loved him?

She covered her face with her hands as tears started to fill her eyes.

The soft scrape of claws on wood announced the arrival of an owl.

She looked up with a tear-streaked face.

Her owl was perched on the edge of the table, the letter still attached to his leg.

Overcome with sobs, she fell to the floor.

She'd been too late.

**Meh… bad ending. :p oh well. I tried… I'm not the best with endings anyway… **

**Bah. Whatever. That ending will just have to do.**

**Yup.**

**Review please!**

**-Mi ChIbO-**

**beep…**


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